Feel My Sorrow's Share
by Jason M. Lee
Summary: Trish and Lucia bond over their origins and how Dante gave them solace. For DMC Gen Week 2019 on Tumblr, Day 1 - Injury/Healing.


_Devil May Cry_ © Capcom

* * *

**Feel My Sorrow's Share**

Jason M. Lee

* * *

"Ow ow ow ow ow..." Trish hissed, wincing as Lucia pressed a cold pack to her side. Even with demonic healing, feeling pain from massive bruising wasn't still fun - stabbing and lacerations were one thing, major internal damages were another.

A soft chuckle from the red-haired huntress as she went back to her kitchen table, opening a jar that of something smelling sharp. "'Beware of over-confidence, for it can poison even the most skilled Protectors, and be the instrument of their fall,' Clause 13."

"Well, excuse me for not expecting that Orangguerra to come in from above via the skylight and pull a lariat." The blonde demoness let out a disdainful snort, before wincing again. "Please don't tell Dante this."

"Mmmm... If you'll show me around Paris?" Lucia tilted her head, her braid sliding a little as she moved the cold pack to the side, wiping the area dry and then applying the salve. "One of the clan's representatives came back from the recent conference with tales of the city, especially the catacombs and some of the markets."

Alright, maybe letting Lady go on that rant of having to deal with possessed corpses hadn't been the best idea, never mind the griping of people trying to scam unsuspecting tourists with fake warding trinkets in some of the open air markets. "Let me see about accommodations, and you've got a deal."

Lucia didn't hide the delight in her eyes. "I will hold your word to it. If I may posit a question, Trish."

"Shoot."

A soft thunk, putting down a reheated pot of stew and pulling out bowls. "What is life in a large city on some of the mainlands like?"

Trish paused. After asking Dante to rename "Devil Never Cry" back to its original name, she had wandered most of the world to find herself, mostly through hitchhiking. (Some of the conversations she had with those that were willing to pick her up on the road resulted in some of the most interesting discussions.) "To a broad degree, just a lot more active than places like here. The technology might be more advanced, clothes and other things are more flashier, but in the end, people are still the same - those with more money, those with less, those who see others as 'lesser', and those who strive to see the brightness in others." She gave a shrug, reaching for the spoon and offered bowl, taking in the mixed aromas. Some kind of root, spiced meat that pleasantly burned her tongue, and chopped vegetables. "Depends on your perspective, but I might not be the best person to ask - you were raised human, I wasn't."

"I see."

Quietness, other than spoons scraping ceramic.

"If I may be a bit bold, Trish..." Lucia fiddled with her utensil.

Curiosity probably burned in the blonde as much as it did the red-head. "Go for?"

"How... How did you deal with your... creator?" She looked up, expression flat, but something in her eyes. "As well afterwards?"

Of course. Trish stared into her bowl, stirring around some of the chunks as she mentally gathered the sparks to form a bolt. "Even though I did what I was told... Mund- he still saw fit to discard me. As a tool that no longer had any use other than for just the one thing. Dante... Even though he told me, moments before, that while I lacked his mother's soul and fire, Dante still saw me as a person, a _human_, and that devils never cry."

Resurrection was something she did _not_ want to experience ever again. (Gold orbs don't count, damnit!) For those brief moments, the black nothingness had clawed at what she supposed what could be her life essence, her own soul, if she could approximate it. Until what felt like a hand grabbing her arm and dragging her back into the light, the brightness of the hall nearly blinding her when she choked and coughed on actually breathing again. Trish never saw the face of her rescuer, but she couldn't shake off the warmth of fingers briefly brushing her forehead before they disappeared. 'Familiarity' wasn't the right word, but 'comforting' was the closest.

"I spent some time wandering the world, to find myself." Trish gave a wry smile. "I suppose... I still am. Searching, and recovering."

Lucia nodded, a look of relief crossing her face. "Matie- Mother... She gave me comfort as well, that even though we didn't shared blood, I am _her daughter_, no matter what. I had always known I had demon blood, but... The pain of learning my true origins... Arius's words had cut deep, that I was nothing more than a failed tool created for a mad scheme, compared to the others that were under him." She rubbed her shoulder, where that tattoo would forever be. "Once, I thought this mark to be that of shame, a sign that I was a monster. And yet Dante told me what you just said, that devils never cry. That as I'm able to shed tears, fear _for_ the safety of humans, it meant that I _am human_."

A thoughtful quiet between both demonesses - women - on their mutual backgrounds of created for a purposes and then thrown aside by their creators. Outside, seagulls called as the waves broke against the rocks.

"Although..."

Trish raised an eyebrow.

A huff, Lucia smiling as she pulled out a coin. "He tricked me, that macho."

Catching how both sides were heads as it flipped in the air, the blonde couldn't help but laugh and raised her spoon as a salute.

* * *

**A/N:** For DMC Gen Week 2019 on Tumblr, Day 1 - Injury/Healing.

Need more Lucia and Trish moments...

Title from William Blake's "On Another's Sorrow".


End file.
